


able to hope

by onceuponamoon



Series: abo jt/ebs [11]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, Post-Trade, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14745959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponamoon/pseuds/onceuponamoon
Summary: John had gotten the call about the Strome-Eberle trade well before it hit the news.  It doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier, even if they all know that this is the nature of the beast.





	able to hope

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos, and prompts are always welcome <3

**August 2017**

 

John had gotten the call about the Strome-Eberle trade well before it hit the news. It doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier, even if they all know that this is the nature of the beast.

Front office gives him Jordan Eberle’s phone number and, for the life of him, John can’t think of what to say. He thinks back to Worlds when they were younger, the way Eberle had been unassuming but surprisingly wicked on the ice, how he’d been dry but goofy, kind but snarky. There are about a million different things John wants to say, wants to ask, but he settles for a standard, “ _Hi, it’s John Tavares. Welcome to the team. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask_ ,” on the day the news goes live.

Eberle sends back a bland, “ _thanks_ ,” and John doesn’t expect to hear from him again until training camp in September.

Instead, he gets a message a couple of weeks later asking if it’s better to fly into LaGuardia or JFK -- to which John has to very quickly steer Ebs towards the airport in Farmingdale. It’s a smaller, regional airport, but much less of a hassle to get in and out of, and it’s only a twenty minute drive from Garden City, which....

“ _Wait, do you have a place to stay yet?_ ”

“ _yeah, hicks is letting me crash until I find a house._ ”

John blinks at his phone, a little surprised that he’d forgotten that they were close. It’s definitely good that he’s already gotten that worked out, though, because John would _help_ but he certainly wasn’t about to open up his own home to an alpha he’s only barely interacted with.

“ _Sweet. Let me know when your flight lands and I’ll give you a ride. I know Hicks is in Calgary til camp._ ”

“ _thanks, man,_ ” is all John gets in response.

It’s another week before they coordinate and then Jordan’s sending his flight details, complaining about the layover and the tiny plane he has to get on to get to Farmingdale and -- then John’s there. _Jordan’s_ there.

He looks sleepy, a little drawn, but he manages a smile when John waves to get his attention, then he’s approaching, bags in hand and --

_Wow_ , he smells good. Like… _really_ good. John feels like he would’ve remembered something so fresh and crisp and sweet, but still indisputably _alpha_. They were required to use scent dampeners during Worlds. But _still_.

Then John realizes that they’re just kind of standing there, staring at each other, subtly sniffing each other out, so he says, “Hey, man. Glad to see you.”

Jordan pulls him in for one of those back-slapping hugs like they’re old friends rather than just acquaintances and John’s definitely not going to say no to a chance to get a deeper scenting going, so he goes along with it. 

_Apples. Apples and...something woody but sweet, berries on an evergreen, or something. Cedar maybe? There are definitely vanilla undertones._

John realizes that he’d be content to sniff the guy all day and that’s what has him pulling back. He clears his throat, catches the pinkness on the crests of Jordan’s cheekbones and spares him a sympathetic grin.

“How was the flight?” John asks. He tucks his hands into his pockets after Jordan declines help with his bags, feeling a little awkward.

Jordan gives half a shrug, says, “I think I’ve been spoiled by private flights and it kind of makes me feel like a douche. There was a screaming baby back in economy and its parents were too zonked on Xanax or sleeping pills to take care of it.”

“ _Yikes_.” John holds the door open for Jordan, a little pleased when he waits for John before they head towards the parking lot.

“I just felt bad, you know? Like. The flight attendants looked harried because people were complaining and -- like I just wanted to go take the baby away from them, which is, ya know, illegal,” he says, shrugging, “but still.”

“Yeah, maybe not the best idea,” John agrees. At first he doesn’t even feel himself grinning, but when Jordan meets his eyes, it tugs wider at the corners of his mouth. “Hicks gave you a key already?”

Jordan nods, rubs at his eyes with a free hand.

John points towards his SUV and pops the back hatch, hefts Jordan’s huge luggage in without asking. Jordan gives him a wan little smile in thanks and then lifts his carry-on and backpack in next to it.

Jordan chatters on about the baby, debating with himself on whether it was sick or just really hated the air pressure making its ears pop, while John gets them out of the lot. He hasn’t really thought of much beyond getting Jordan to Hickey’s place -- doesn’t have any other plans for the day aside from napping and then working out, so when Jordan says, “Is there, like....can we go get ice cream, or something?” John can’t find it in himself to say no.

Plus, he knows just the place.

There’s a place that sells pastries and ice cream just ten minutes north of Garden City. John drives slowly so that Jordan can get a feel of Long Island and he’s glad to hear his, “This isn’t all that different from Edmonton,” comment is laced with a happy kind of surprise. 

The Gelateria is pretty empty, but John still leaves his hat on inside just in case.

Jordan’s has been on backwards and it’s so bro-y that John can’t help but be a little charmed, especially when his eyes light up and he says, “Dude, it smells like _heaven_ in here.”

There’s an omega behind the counter, grinning at them less like she knows who they might be and more like she’s just doing her job, which is just fine with John. Jordan’s smile goes a little harder, hesitant but his scent stays pretty mellow once John says, “The banana Nutella one is really good.”

“Is it your first time here?” the girl asks Jordan.

“Yeah, I’m --” He looks at John, who just smiles encouragingly. “New to town.”

The girl’s smile gets a little more genuine then and she starts in on her spiel about all of the flavors, grinning when Jordan gets excited at the prospect of espresso chocolate chip. She gives him one of those tiny spoons to taste test and --

John has to clear his throat to keep from purring at the sudden burst of pure, unmitigated pleasure radiating off of Jordan. It’s so _sweet_. Nothing like any of the alphas John’s ever met.

“Yeah, that one,” Jordan says, “Two scoops please.”

Again, John clears his throat. “Could I have the banana Nutella, just one?”

The girl chirps, “Of course,” and then gives them the total. John pays, doesn’t even think twice about it. Once they have their gelatos, John nods his head towards outside and motions towards the little benches outside. There’s a flowering plant in a pot nearby, pink and bright and sharply sweet, but also a fire hydrant and the rush of cars to mitigate it, so John sits and takes his first bite.

They eat their treats in silence for a bit, John mulling over what all he wants to say and what style he should use to offer support.

“They’re all expecting some pretty big things from us, yeah?” Jordan asks. His scent holds a trace of trepidation, but it’s faint, hiding behind the pleasure of eating ice cream. “Since we killed it at Worlds.”

John nods. There’s no point in downplaying it. Jordan was definitely brought on to shake things up. “They are.”

Jordan sighs, deflates a little bit, but...it’s more like he’s validated, relieved to have some confirmation. He takes another bite of ice cream, letting it sit in his mouth before he swallows, throat working, and his scent blossoms again. 

_Juniper_ , John thinks. _Kind of like gin, but. Better. Yeah. Not as sharp._

“We haven’t made it to the playoffs in a while,” John says, placating. “It’d...be nice to, no doubt. Of course we want to win. But. I think it’s more important for us to just. Rebuild. Do our best, as cheesy as that sounds.”

It makes Jordan snort. “Right, because we’re in it to have fun. Are participation trophies new at the awards? Must’ve missed that.”

John tries not to encourage the sarcasm, but still finds himself fighting off a smile. “Yeah, I’ve got mine from last year,” he says drily. “You made the playoffs, though, so…”

Jordan lets loose a surprisingly breathy laugh, high and delighted.

John smiles and takes another bite.

“Listen,” John eventually says, “I know that this sucks. It’s a big change and all that. But I’m here, if you want someone to talk to.”

Jordan smiles, sleepy-eyed and wide. “Yeah,” he says, “Okay.”

 

John gives Jordan a week to settle in before he starts pushing for them to have an official pre-season welcome dinner. Usually, John does the one-on-one thing with everyone who’s already in town and then mandates a team dinner the night before training camp.

He’s already made the rounds to the A’s and goalies, but the rest of the defensemen and forwards always come in straggling waves.

Jordan’s still in town, getting used to Long Island, but says he hasn’t gone into the city yet aside from the standard touristing all NHL players do when they first make it to the big show. His “ _honestly, dude, i kind of hated Times Square_ ” text nearly made John snort Gatorade out of his nose, because _duh_.

John texts back, “ _Well, now that you’re a NYer, you can safely hate Times Square all you want. Have you ever hung out in Brooklyn? It’s much less terrifying._ ”

Which is how they end up in Greenpoint at a Korean-French fusion restaurant.

Jordan’s impressed by the food while John thinks it could use a little more heat, but he’s enjoying the conversation and learning about his new teammate. 

“God, this is crazy,” Jordan blurts.

Quirking an eyebrow, John asks, “What is?”

Casting a hand around, Jordan lowers his voice and says, “It’s -- I guess I knew it’d be more...liberal? Than Alberta, but. This -- no one has looked at us twice, no one offered us a hand-feeding menu. It’s like. This is completely --”

“Accepted?”

There’s a beta with bright pink hair dining with two omegas, all three of them giving off faint, post-heat smells, a traditional alpha-omega pair two tables away doing the whole hand-feeding thing, a pair of alphas playing footsie and laughing loudly just diagonal from them. And then there’s them, teammates. Potentially friends. From the outside, maybe they look like a couple too.

John’s throat clicks when he swallows, something burning a bit in his chest when he grabs his water.

Jordan nods. “No one _cares_ here. It’s -- different.” He huffs a laugh. “ _Awesome_ , actually,” he clarifies.

“Gone are the days of sub-gender dynamic assumptions.” John grins, sipping at his water. “Well. At least in Brooklyn.” John pushes his empty plate away, knife and fork crossed over it. “The best part is that no one really cares who anyone is, aside from tourists.”

“Yeah?” Jordan’s curiosity tastes like autumn in the back of John’s throat.

Nodding, John says, “One time, Zachary Quinto was in my subway car. No one even looked twice at him. It was surreal.”

“Huh. I guess if people don’t pay attention to actual celebrities, they won’t pay us any attention, eh?”

John shakes his head. “Anonymity’s pretty nice. It’s not like this back home.”

“Definitely not,” Jordan agrees. 

He sits back in his chair, fingers crossed over his stomach as he surveys the restaurant, the table, _John_. He smells -- good, still. Of course. But...content. Full. Maybe even excited. Aside from this perpetually-sleepy look Jordan has going on, he actually seems to be enjoying himself here in New York. At the very least, John thinks he doesn’t hate it. And that’s a start.

Sitting like this in the quiet, dimness of the restaurant, John’s able to hope, for the first time in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://onceuponamoonfic.tumblr.com)


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